The Pretty Stories

 
The pretty stories you tell.
I get caught in the exposition.
Truth your afraid to mention.
Like Slowly outgrowing us.
Distance stunted us, call it premature.
I fade in your absence 
the missed calls  make this a practice, you make it a habit to perfect this.
But your reckless and I'm uninsured.
I'm less frequently feeling your high frequency in between the times you attempt to reach me. 
Which weakly it seems is becoming weekly.
But your still building a climax. 
So lets play out this chapter like you love me while I jump into relapse like you were my drug. 
I was your power source you were my plug, watch the collapse of our synergy. 
Travesty we've become, you didn't tell me I was a star of a tragedy.
They say misery, is infectious so I contemplate when you'll catch this.
Disconnected, and crossed up like intersections. we blur out, bad reception while I'm redirected in interceptions. 
Pause on deception.
Is it real or am I dreaming us, inception? 
Clue me in. You write the conclusion. Don't leave me with loose ends. I'm tied up right now. 
Tangled in secrets and flagrancy. And basically coping with your vacancy. 
You left open space where your heart should be. 
I'm numb to it all. Guilt trip, and I fall into action. Land into copacetic reaction.
I'm good...on you. Used to be that I was good on you. 
During intermissions of soft kisses and renditions of time you miss. Before we were a mirage in falling action. 
When I was the cause of your distraction. Physically the attraction. When it was still love and you retracted. 
So in conclusion call me your ex-habit. Its translucent I was only practice. But I'm in love with the tale you crafted.

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